I'm in my cold, empty, and bleak apartment staring out the window, waiting for my landlady to come by to pick up the keys. Each corner of my chambre de bonne that was once packed with my life of shoes, piles of sweaters, books, records, empty wine bottles set aside to recycle, and more shoes are now stark, as if life never happened here. The bed that was once soaked in my tears is now stripped with the apartment's linens optimistically stacked at the foot of the bed for the next girl, a hopeful Italian girl who has always wanted to live in Paris and learn French.
So this is it. Time to say goodbye....
Goodbye to the ghost of MF coming to my apartment in the middle of the night to tell me that it wasn't what it looked like the night I saw him and that girl at the cafe. Goodbye to the haunting image of Katie pawing through my belongings with strangers in my apartment, robbing me of who I am in Paris. Goodbye to my landlady coming into my apartment when she knew that I'd be away, hire a cleaning lady to clean it and hand me the bill. Goodbye to my anxiety that built up with every corner that I turned in the Marais, wondering who I would bump into, MF, his brother, his mother or worse, the creepy Phil. Goodbye to "Bad Romance" drunk sing-alongs on Rue Vieille du Temple on Saturday nights. Goodbye to the strange birds that hover low and squawk over the Marais as if it is still a swamp. Goodbye to the irony having a bridal shop on the ground floor of my building.
Goodbye to this year. Goodbye to 365 days of starting over in the City of Light. It's always darkest before the dawn, eh?
I've learned so much. I wouldn't give back a drop of this experience for the fairytale that Paris is supposed to be. Paris is real...and at the risk of getting all J.Lo on you, so am I.
So here's my Hollywood ending...would you expect anything less from me?
